


High Hopes (Scared of Never Feeling It Again)

by belovedstill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hitchhiking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Roadtrip, past abusive relationship, sick!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedstill/pseuds/belovedstill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cas got an unexpected message from his ex-partner, he needed to immediately reach him. The problem was, none of his friends nor family members were to know about it. What was left for him, then? He had to hitchhike and trust with his safety the kind driver who liked listening to loud music was too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Hopes (Scared of Never Feeling It Again)

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt for an anonymous: Destiel + "I need this"
> 
> The title comes from a song by Kodaline - "High Hopes"
> 
> originally written and posted on [ casinthongs.tumblr.com](http://casinthongs.tumblr.com/)

Castiel had no idea what he was doing.

No, that was a lie. Of course he knew what he was doing. He knew.

He had known ever since he got the text message from Isaac that simply said _I miss you, come over_. It didn't matter that Isaac lived nearly six states over now, or that Castiel got awfully sick when he travelled for too long. Isaac missed him for the first time in two months, and against his better judgement, Castiel packed his bag and left his apartment.  


He didn't tell anybody about his little trip, because he knew they'd just stop him. They would have every right to do it – after all, they had been the ones who pieced him back together and had taken care of him after Isaac left him. He didn't like to talk about it. The thing was, one moment they'd been together, more or less happy, and the other Cas was left with his heart torn in shreds.

The bruises that Isaac had left on his body had healed over the time. Maybe that was why his heart – oh, such a stupid heart – longed to see the man one more time; because the reminders were gone? Maybe Isaac had changed, maybe he loved him back again? Maybe as soon as they'd see each other he was going to put his arms around Castiel, pull him close and whisper those sweet words that he used to grace Cas with when they'd first met? Maybe—

But Castiel didn't want to tease his luck. Isaac had already texted him. It was enough.

He needed to see him. He just... needed.

Now, he had to get to the other man as fast as he could. Going by plane was not an option, and he himself didn't own a car. He didn't trust himself with buses or trains. There was only one option left.

He would have to hitchhike.

 

In movies, people always stood on the side of the road with their right hand outstretched, so Castiel tried it as well. It didn't work. Two hours passed and no one stopped to even ask where he wanted to go. He even started wondering if he was doing something wrong, or wasn't dressed like a hitchhiker would be (what didn't make any sense, since he only had his old T-shirt with his brother's bakery logo and a pair of jeans on). After another half an hour, Castiel swung his bag over his shoulder and followed the endless line of cars passing him. If he had to, he would walk to California all by himself.

Not even half an hour passed and he threw his bag onto the ground and dropped on his butt next to it. Who was he kidding? He wouldn't even make it to the next state, let alone reach his destination.

With a heavy sigh, Cas pulled out his phone and read the message again, and then once more. Isaac would just stop missing him...

Suddenly, a black car pulled up in front of him and the person driving it – a man – rolled a window down.

“You alright there?” The driver asked, raising his tone a little so Castiel could hear him over the rumble of the car's working engine. “Do you need any help?”

Cas wasn't going to start overthinking the dangers of hitchhiking, not now that he actually had a chance to get at least a bit closer to Isaac. As it turned out, the man in the car – Dean, he told him his name in exchange of Castiel's own – was heading to California, as well. He was even willing to take Cas and help him get to the other state, promising to try to make it fast.

Right in this moment, Dean was Castiel's favourite person in the world.

 

“So...Cas—Cas _what_ again?” Dean asked, breaking the silence that had been lasting for fifteen minutes now.

“Castiel,” Cas repeated. “It's a name loosely based on an angel, Cassiel.”

Dean glanced at him for a second. “I'll stick with “Cas”. Just so you know, I won't be driving at nights, I need my sleep, so your “as soon as possible” might take a while.”

Castiel was just about to ask if anybody else could drive when the man would sleep, but he realised that he was the only other person in the car. He didn't have driving license and couldn't for a life of his steer a vehicle. Bikes didn't count, they didn't have engines. With a sigh, he leaned back against the passanger seat, trying to relax. “I presume I have no other choice than to agree,” he said under a heavy breath. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Only then did Dean turn on the radio mounted in his car, and the speakers blasted with loud, angry music that made Castiel's heart jump up his throat.

 _It can't be worse than that_ , the Novak thought to himself, _It can't be worse..._

Three hours of constant driving and silence bar the loud rock music later, Castiel felt his body growing weak and dull-y achy. He didn't even have the strength to roll his eyes as he practically lay on the car seat with his temple resting against the cool of a window. The world outside seemed to be moving faster and faster, even though Dean had been driving it at one and the same speed for the last hour.

“You're not gonna puke, are you?”

Castiel wouldn't have even noticed that the music was off if it hadn't been for Dean's voice, freely reaching his ear now.

“You didn't have to say that,” Cas groaned, clenching his eyelids. Something in his stomach turned, making him feel sick. _All Dean's fault_ , he thought miserably, even though he knew better. Blaming a stranger, though? It was so much easier.

He could feel Dean's eyes on him every now and then. Honestly, if the man wouldn't stop stealing glances, they were going to crash. “Don't tell me you have a car sickness,” Dean nearly pleaded.

Castiel pointedly kept himself silent.

Dean was persistent, though.“Have you?”

“I thought I wasn't supposed to tell you.”

“Great,” Dean muttered under his breath, probably more to himself than to Castiel. “Don't you have any medicine on you?”

“I don't travel that often, I don't need one.”

“You're travelling now.”

“Apparently I haven't thought it through.”

They fell quiet for the next several minutes, until Dean sighed, and Castiel's curiosity made him look at him. “Try not to puke, okay?” Dean asked.

Cas winced. “Then stop saying that word,” he mumbled, turning his face even more away from Dean and towards the pleasant cooling sensation. He couldn't promise anything – he remembered how most of his travels had gone in the past. They'd never been fun.

Dean stopped mentioning _the word_ and he didn't even turn the radio on again. Cas was grateful, but before he could thank the other man, he dozed off.

Falling asleep when he wasn't feeling well had always been considered a blessing to him. He was feeling too hot? He could sleep the heat off, waking up when the temperature dropped down a bit. His head hurt? A light nap could solve the problem. Car sick? Well, that was a bit more complicated. He slept well, but whenever he would wake up—like now, being shaken by somebody's hand—his stomach would protest so badly and so fast that he wouldn't even have time to leave—

“Here,” somebody spoke, pushing a bag of some sorts against Castiel's palm and guiding it to his mouth, too rapidly for Castiel's mind to catch up with what was going on.

Cas felt _awful_. There was nothing pleasant about retching, much less about somebody seeing him do it. He was too vulnerable to do anything about it, too weak to even try and stop himself from being sick, to try and hide from the other person's eyes.

The bag—a paper bag, like the ones he got used to holding in cars long time ago—got a little heavier and heavier, and when his stomach finally settled, Castiel clenched his fingers around the hem of it.

“Gross, man,” the same voice said as its owner handed him a tissue. “You didn't even leave the car.”

Dean. Right. Now that Castiel's mind cleared out, he remembered the reason why he was driving in a car in the first place.

The car wasn't moving, though. It was parked in front of QuikTrip – a gas station of some sorts, he realised.

The Novak accepted the tissue, immediately wiping his lips and throwing it into the bag. “I apologise,” he mumbled, wincing at the foul taste. He tried not to breathe out too much, or else Dean would sense the smell. If he hadn't already.

Dean didn't reply, reaching to the backseat instead and pulling out Castiel's bag. “Here you go,” he said, dropping it on Cas' knees, before nodding at the door. “Out.”

Castiel froze. His stomach seemed to tie itself in a knot. Dean couldn't do it...could he? He couldn't just leave him here, in a place that Cas barely knew. After a panicked look around, Castiel was _sure_ that he didn't know where he was at all.

“But,” he started, looking back to Dean. His heart clenched. Who else was going to help him get to Isaac? “I am really sorry, Dean, I did not mean to, please don't make me—”

Dean frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What?” he asked slowly. Cas could see the exact moment when the realisation filled the man's green eyes. “Oh... Oh, no, I'm not telling you to _get out_ , just to... Get out. I mean, get out and go to the bathroom out there,” he pointed at the gas station. “Get rid of the bag and brush your teeth. You have a toothpaste in this baggage of yours, do you?”

Castiel just stared at him for a moment longer. Dean wasn't throwing him out. He was still going to drive him to Isaac, even after he nearly dirtied his car.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well?”

“I do,” Cas stuttered. He didn't need another word to jump into action and push the passenger door open. “Thank you so much, Dean, I will try to make it as fast as possible.”

A wave of hand was the only reply he got before he rushed to the toilet.

Dean was there when he got back, leaning against the hood of his car. All the doors of the vehicle were open. Castiel supposed it was because the interior stunk a bit of his sickness.

“You okay there?” Dean asked when he noticed him approaching, and when Cas gave a small nod, he threw a small packet towards him. “Swallow one,” he encouraged. “There's water in the glove box.”

Pills. Dean had bought him _medicine_.

What's more, he hadn't left while Cas had been in the bathroom. He'd stayed.

Castiel looked up at him, not even realising when the corners of his lips turned upwards. “Thank you,” he said. “You didn't have to, though.”

Dean grinned. “You can pay me back.”

Cas nodded quickly and put his belongings on the passenger seat. After he handed the money to Dean and swallowed the pill, he got into the car. It seemed like the incident from before had never happened – the air was fresh.

Dean stuck his head through the other door. “We're not driving yet,” he informed. “We're gonna wait till the pills hit in. I say, we can eat something. You want anything?”

As it later turned out, Castiel's “no, thank you” did nothing to fool Dean. He bought them hot dogs, quite impressive in size, too, and a slice of pie. He said he wouldn't share the latter, and he didn't. As soon as they were done eating and Castiel promised that he felt alright, they got into the car, pulled out and left Iowa.

 

The night at a motel cost Castiel more than he'd expected, having never slept in one. It was quite cold, too. And lonely. He didn't want to touch anything, warned by Dean that it could actually make him pay even more.

They had arrived at the motel three hours ago, and during the ride Dean'd played music in his car again, this time on a lower volume. It hadn't been a radio station that the music had been playing from – Dean owned several cassette tapes, some original, some with his favourite songs recorded onto them. All of them were full of electric guitars, drums and screaming voices. Cas hadn't complained about it, even though it wasn't his taste at all.

Dean was in the other room, the one next to his own, and it felt weirdly comforting. Even though they didn't know each other that much (hell, they didn't know each other at all), it was a pleasant thought of having an option to knock on the other man's door and chat with him.

He didn't do it. Instead, Castiel looked at the message from Isaac and went to sleep.

 

At 6AM somebody banged on his door, making Cas jump out of his sleep. It took him exactly five seconds to get the fog around his mind cleared out and remember where he was and why he was there.

“Cas, you up? Time to go!” He heard Dean's voice through the door. They had agreed yesterday to leave early. “Get yourself together and meet me at the car!”

Castiel swallowed the drool that had filled his mouth during his sleep and wiped the wetness that managed to escape from his chin. “'m coming!” He called back. He knew now that Dean wouldn't just leave him there, so he took his time with refreshing himself and changing clothes.

After a quick breakfast at a nearby diner, where Dean reminded Cas to take his medicine and Cas eventually took it, they hit the road again.

 

Somewhere between the third and fourth hour, Dean realised that Cas didn't quite enjoy his music. He wasn't angry, just... persistent.

He changed the tapes, turned them around when one side stopped playing, so the songs from another could grace their ears. And the thing was... Cas started to like it.

Dean knew lots of things about all the songs that he had on the tapes. After every one, he paused the tape, and still driving the car, he told Cas what the song was about and what was the background story of it. He even mentioned several funny stories about his favourite bands.

As it turned out, rock music had slow songs, as well, and with these, Cas could actually focus on the lyrics. When Dean noticed what kind of pieces caught his companion's attention – consciously or not – he left a tape with softer sounding songs on.

 

“Where are you driving from?” Castiel asked after a quick stop at a gas station to buy some drinks and food they could eat for lunch. He was starting to get curious about Dean, who knew so much about the music playing in his car and seemed to be connected on a somehow emotional level to some of it.

Dean glanced at him briefly, before looking back at the road. “Michigan,” he said. “I actually live in Kansas, but my granparents are in Michigan. I paid them a visit”.

Cas nodded. “And where are you going?” He shook his head as soon as the queastion was out. “I meant, what are you going to California for?”

Dean smiled. “To see my kid brother.”

“Oh?” Cas raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought...that you live in Kansas.”

“I do. See, he's in Stanford, studying law. That genius little man,” Dean said with fondness in his eyes, and chuckled a second later. “Well, he's not that little anymore. Dude has outgrown me when he was seventeen, and he's never stopped growing!”

Cas let a smile slip onto his lips. That was a nice situation that he'd found himself in. Dean wasn't as bad as the “Stranger Danger” talk he had got back at school said a stranger would be. Dean was a brother, a son, and a grandson, who visited his relatives sometimes, not minding that it took him days to reach them.

“What about you?” Dean asked after a while. “You looked pretty distraught on the side of the road when I first saw you.”

That was it, the opportunity to talk to somebody about everything that had been going on in his head, and not being associated with the heartbreak he had gone through.

“His name is Isaac,” Castiel started with a sigh, what earned him a quick look from Dean that he couldn't quite interpret just yet. “We'd been together for a long time, and then, two months ago, he suddenly...”

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to talk about it?

“He left,” Dean finished slowly. “And now you're going after him? That's a... It's been a long time since he left, I hear.”

There was something in the man's voice that was whispering about it being too late to get everything with Isaac to work again. Oh, but he didn't know the most important thing...

“But he sent me a message,” Castiel rushed, pulling out his phone and quickly finding the text. He almost showed it to Dean, but he remembered then that the man was driving the car. “He says he misses me and tells me to come over. And I need to. I need this. I need him.”

Dean let what seemed to be all the air out of his lungs and shook his head. “Still not over him? The guy sounds like a douche,” he commented. “Why did he run off?”

That... That Castiel hadn't been expecting at all. Dean wasn't meant to know about the background story, but it seemed unfair to lie to him after he had shared the bits of informations about his family.

Why did Isaac leave?

“I don't know,” Cas said, much more quietly now. He stared somewhere ahead of him for a long moment, trying to remember the words that he had managed to bury in his memory some time ago. Oh... Now he knew. He looked down at his phone, pushing a random button, so the screen would light up again. “He said he was bored. That I wasn't enough.”

He dared a quick glance at Dean, before moving his eyes back to the phone. Dean wasn't looking at him, but he was listening. The silence was becoming unnerving, so...

So he filled it with his voice. He talked.

He told Dean about the bar that his brothers, Gabriel and Balthazar, had taken him to one night, where he'd met Isaac. The man had turned his world upside down, connecting with him the way nobody had ever done before. They'd started dating soon after that and had their own “couple first times” within the first three weeks.

Cas admitted that he had especially loved the little moments, like the first time they had held hands, the first cup of coffee drunk together or the first time one had stayed at the other one's place because they had been watching movies until it got too late to come back home.

He added that, as honest as Isaac always had been, the other man had enjoyed much more the physical aspects of their relationship.

“Anna warned me that moving in with somebody only after a month of knowing them wasn't the smartest idea,” Castiel said. He told Dean that Anna was his sister and that he loved her very much, and that she had been right when she'd advised Cas on not letting the man move in into his little place. “Isaac... Isaac had his demons.”  
Dean frowned. “Demons?”

Cas let out a soft hum in agreement. “He liked to drink. And when he drank, he—he expressed his love a little differently than usual.”

They were both quiet until Dean murmured, “He beat you?”

 _If only_ , Castiel thought. The alarmed look that Dean sent him gave away that he'd spoken the words out loud.

“His love hurt, but he loved me,” he added, caressing his phone as gently as he could. “And he still loves me. He misses me.”

Neither of them spoke till the next stop, and even when the cassette tape stopped playing, Dean didn't change nor replace it. They both needed a moment to think.

 

“Love isn't supposed to hurt, you know.” Dean said, returning to the topic that they had dropped hours ago. He dropped his own bag of clothes on the floor and fell down onto a bed next to Castiel's. This time they knew more about each other and Castiel had told Dean that he couldn't spend too much money if he wanted to live in California for a couple of days. They rented a motel room together, then, with two beds separated by a respectful distance.

Castiel looked at the man and shook his head, setting his bag on one of the chairs at a small table. “I've been told love creates miracles. It can heal people.”

“Not abusive douchebags.”

“Isaac isn't abusive,” Cas responded rapidly, turning to glare at Dean. “He kissed me every time he got better. He promised he'd never do that again.”

“Did he?” Dean asked, sitting up. “Did he ever get better?”

That was a question Castiel refused to answer, not because he didn't have a reply – he had one. And he didn't know how, but he was aware that Dean suspected what it was.

“He misses me,” he whispered only, when the lights were out and they were both freshly showered, wrapped in covers and lying in their beds.

“Do _you_ miss him?” Dean asked after a while.

Cas got scared of the question and of the blankness that filled his mind when he thought it over. He didn't reply, pretending that he was already asleep.

 

The next day started at 6AM, as well, but this time Castiel was less confused than the day before, possibly because Dean didn't yell to wake him up, but rather spoke softly and gently shook Cas' shoulder. It was a good start, and Castiel felt much less grumpy thanks to it.

“If everything goes well, we'll get to California today,” Dean informed forty minutes later, after they'd checked out and ordered some eggs and bacon for breakfast in a small diner five minutes from their motel.

“What do you mean “if it goes well”? What could go wrong?” Cas asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Dean handed him a bottle of water. “Don't forget your pills,” he said. “I just mean that if there will be roadworks, we'll have to turn around and drive another way. It can take some more time.”

Castiel nodded, setting the water aside. They ate their breakfast, listening to the mix of the news the owners of the diner had playing on the radio and the noise of several people chatting at their tables.

“Cas. Pills,” Dean reminded him for the second time, and this time Cas pulled out his medicine.

“I know, I know,” he assured and almost allowed himself to roll his eyes as he swallowed the tablet and drank some water. Now Dean was going to order something sweet and then they would be off on a road again.

Castiel didn't feel that weary of travelling by a car anymore. It wasn't that bad with Dean.

By noon, he got used to several of Dean's all time favourite rock songs enough to even like them, and if he sang along to one or two of them—well, it was Dean's fault.

 

When they were five hours ahead of their destination, Castiel began feeling unsettled. They were so close now, so close to Stanford and to Dean's brother, and to parting their ways. His medication must have started to wear off sooner than ever before, so he swallowed another dose of it, finishing a bottle of water, and rested his head against the passenger window.

Dean had proved to be an exceptionally kind man. He'd been the only one who stopped long enough to ask Cas if he'd needed help back on the first day. He'd seemed the only one who cared—he _had been_ the only one who cared.

...Dean was a good-looking man, as well. And he was funny. And fascinating. And concerned about random strangers whom he'd picked up as hitchhikers. He had had many occasions to just leave Castiel somewhere, even at a safe place, with phone calls and food available, but he hadn't done it.

“Cas?” Dean asked. “Are you okay?” He was looking between the road and the man, perhaps somehow worried. “There's more water in my bag, if you want it.”

“I'm alright,” Castiel answered quietly, letting his sight follow the views quickly passing by outside the car window, and closing his eyes when they started to get tired.

“If you wrapped your mind about it and don't want to see the douchebag again, I'll understand,” the driver said.

Castiel frowned. Douchebag? Who was Dean talking abou—

Oh. Isaac. Dean was taking him to see Isaac.

Isaac missed him.

“No, no. I need him,” Cas said. He felt like a broken tape, playing on repeat the same two or three seconds of music material. It sounded like it wasn't even coming from his lips anymore.

Dean let out a long sigh, and somehow Castiel knew Dean still wasn't angry at him, or tired of his stubbornness. “Cas. Just think about this one, okay? You don't even need to answer it, just mull it over.” When Dean noticed a slight nod, he breathed in. “Alright, so... You keep saying how he misses you, but you never mention that _you_ miss _him_. The same is with _that_ ,” he moved one of his hands off of the steering wheel, gesturing at Castiel, before laying it back on its place. “You need him? For what? _To_ what? Is it _him_ that you need, or maybe you need _somebody_ to miss you as much as you _hope_ he does?”

Castiel closed his eyes, tight, until he couldn't see much light anymore, and felt his throat clenching, as well. “I need this,” he whispered, brokenly, because he himself didn't know what to think anymore.

“Think about it,” Dean told him only, and after that he played the song from his tape collection that Cas seemed to like the most.

 

The taste of their lunch had been long gone when the car finally stopped. The delicious hot-dog now turned in his stomach, making it hurt. Only a small park was now between him and Isaac. Children played in it, running around after a ball or swinging on the only two swings in there as their parents watched over them. They'd all soon go home since it was getting colder with the sun slowly drifting towards the horizon.

What if Isaac wasn't home?

 _What if he was?_ , a voice of a thought whispered in his mind. He shooed it away. He had travelled for almost three days to see the man. He wasn't going to back up now.

Isaac miss—

Somehow, this time Castiel couldn't even _think_ the words.

“Cas?”

Dean's voice seemed to shake Castiel off of his thoughts. The man jumped into action, undoing his safety belt and reaching to the backseat for his bag. 

“Did you think it through? You don't have to go there,” Dean said, watching as Castiel reached to the passenger door and opened it.

“I know. Thank you,” Cas said quickly. “Thank you for everything.”

Dean smiled, much softer than he had ever seen him to, and patted the brunet's shoulder. “No need to. Just stay safe, okay?”

Castiel gave a nod, sitting on his seat for a moment longer, waiting for something that he wasn't even aware of. It lasted several seconds, or maybe ten minutes, he didn't even know. Time seemed to flow so fast now that he didn't want it to.

“I will,” he promised quietly.

With that, he was out of the car.

He could still see Dean, sitting in the black vehicle, when he crossed the park. When he was at Isaac's door and turned around, though, there was no sign of the other man, or of their three days long journey. None at all.

 

“You—you were supposed to arrive tomorrow,” those were the first words that slipped off of Isaac's tongue when he opened the door and saw who was standing on his porch. There were no smiles, no hugs and no warm words; just the surprise in the grey eyes of the man Castiel had once shared a bed with.

Isaac looked handsome in only boxer briefs, as he'd always done.

Castiel frowned. It was way past 5PM now, so surely the man had had to be out of his bed for a long while. Why would he wear only his underwear, then?

“I came as soon as I could,” Cas said slowly, tasting the words on his tongue as he looked up from Isaac's clothing. “You said you missed m—”

He noticed the fresh hickeys covering the side of Isaac's neck at exactly the same moment that another voice joined their conversation.

“Izzy?” It was definitely a man who walked over and stood behind Isaac.

Castiel tried not to look at the bed sheet that was wrapped around the man's otherwise naked body. Instead, he focused his eyes on his ex-partner. His cheeks stung as though he had just been slapped.

“You _missed_ me?” He asked in a bitter tone, clenching his jaw.

Isaac just stared at him, looking too uncomfortable to glance at the other man standing behind him. “Cas, it's just—”

Castiel shook his head, taking a step back. He almost stumbled down a single stair. “Don't call me that,” he called. He should have known. He should have _known..._ “Don't ever speak my name, I—I feel _filthy_ from just looking at you.” He wiped his hand down his face and gripped his bag tighter.

_Dean was right._

Cas looked up once again, feeling all the hurt and emotions he hadn't even known of boil in him. He lifted his hand and pointed at Isaac. His finger shook, just like his whole arm.  
“I _don't need you_ ,” he spat.

Isaac tried to say something, but Castiel was past caring. He took off. He didn't even know where he was going. All he wanted was to be as far from this place as possible.

 

Castiel didn't trust buses, or taxis, for that matter.

He took one to reach the Stanford University, though. It was the only place that seemed to be in any way familiar to him in this strange state.

Only when the taxi drived off, leaving him standing there, with a bag over his shoulder, did he realise that he had no way of knowing if any Deans or Sams were still around the place. They could be inside, or in Sam's dorm, or—what if Sam had his own apartment?

Oh, he hadn't thought it through. He was _terrible_ at planning. How was he going to come back home now? He didn't have enough money to even—

“Cas?”

He turned around.

Dean was standing there, on the other side of a wide road, holding the door to his car open like he had just planned to get inside.

A heavy weight dropped off Castiel's heart, making it so much easier to breathe. He smiled and joined the man as fast as he could. He wouldn't feel so alone now, not with Dean.

“I didn't do it, I couldn't,” Cas rushed out, when he only reached Dean. “You were right, he didn't miss me, and I didn't need him. I don't need him. You were right.”

What Dean did next caught him by surprise. He simply wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him into a hug. It was quick, but after all, a warm embrace was one of the things that Castiel had drove through almost six states for.

“I'm proud of you,” Dean whispered, close to his ear. He added something about it “probably not being important”, but oh, it was. It meant everything. It made Castiel's smile widen even more as he returned the hug.

“Dean?” Somebody asked, and Castiel pulled away immediately. “Who's that?”

Dean let go of him to look at the young man who just got out of the car. “Sammy, this is Cas. Castiel, actually. Named after an angel,” he said, smiling. “I gave him a lift. He's a... friend.”

Sam grinned and walked over to them. He reached out and shook Castiel's offered hand. “Nice to meet you. My name is Sam. Just a simple name, really.” He chuckled and looked between the two older men. “So...you're Dean's friend or his _friend_ friend?” He asked, sending his brother a look that Cas clearly must have imagined.

Dean smiled at the words, turning his eyes to the man he hadn't even known a week ago. “You never know,” he said, lifting his hand to pat Castiel's shoulder. After it touched it, though, Dean just let it rest there for a moment longer. “Maybe. One tiny step at a time.”


End file.
